Love Letters to You

BREAKING NEWS: LORD SIRIUS BLACK FOUND INNOCENT OF HIS WAR CRIMES

PUREBLOOD HEIR AND FELLOW GRYFFINDOR, HOW THE MINISTRY FAILED BLACK

Last night, the Minister of Magic revealed a shocking truth: Sirius Orion Black, convicted of first-degree murder against dozens of muggles and betrayer of the Potters, our beloved Boy-who-lived's family, is innocent of those crimes. 

"It is a grave miscarriage of justice," Minister Fudge says to this reporter. "A horrible crime done by the previous establishment and one that my ministry strives to shed light on the matter. 

Sirius Black, unfortunately, died yesterday night, never knowing that the truth will be revealed but a few hours after. He leaves behind a grieving daughter and godson...

Previous minister Bagnolde declined to comment. 

More on Sirius Black's past on page 2. 

More on Sirius Black and the Potters on page 4.

LADY ELARA BLACK, HEIRESS TO THE MOST ANCIENT AND NOBLE HOUSE OF BLACK, SPEAKS OUT ON HER LORD FATHER AND CONDEMNS THE PREJUDICES THAT ALLOWED HIM TO BE CONVICTED WITHOUT A TRIAL.

"My father suffered at the hands of the last Ministry. Though I am grateful for Minister Fudge's diligence at carrying out my lord father's justice, it is time to open the debate on previous incarcerations and how Slytherin's bias by the Light faction must stop." Lady Elara Black says firmly, dressed in black and a mourning veil upon her hair. 

Top student in her school year and Slytherin's darling, the Lady Elara Black has always been a well-respected, powerful pureblood witch since her debutante. Niece of the most respectable Lord and Lady Malfoy, the Lady Black is well known for her perfect courtesies and ardent love for friends and family alike. 

"I grieve for my lord father," she says to this reporter, aristocratic face carefully hidden in a mourning veil as Pureblood customs demand. This reporter cannot help but feel sorry for the lady who remains strong as the truth is revealed. "Though I have not known him. Minister Bagnolde and Mister Crouch saw to it when they sent him to Azkaban without a process because he is from the House of Black." 

"Do you think it was because of that?"

"Yes," Lady Black nods firmly. "The Light faction preaches on equality and fair chances, yet they have not hesitated to throw my lord father aside and throw away the key. It is a recurrent thing following the Blood War. Many Slytherins were convicted without trial, and one might wonder if any were like my lord father, guilty of bearing a particular name or guilty of wearing Silver and Green." 

"That is a dangerous thing to state, Lady Black." 

The Lady Black remains unflinching in her pursuit of justice. "Is it dangerous because it challenges the Light's agenda, Ms. Pucey?" She then softens. "My Lord Father suffered much, and I wish I could have known him. Now, it is far too late. Everyone who condemned him spoke of how they should have known he was a traitor because of his Black blood. Now, the same who spit on my House's name proclaim him a hero. I will not allow the Light use my Lord Father as they have for years." 

More on Lady Black's speech to the Wizarding Media on page 3. 

More on Lady Black and her House on page 5. 

Tracey Davis is part of the Silver Court. 

She owes Elara Black much as she is but a half blood from a House that clings to its title like one would cling to its dying breath. Maybe that is why she sits anxiously on her seat, a bit to Elara's left, as some Slytherins oppose her. 

Do not get her wrong, she is not afraid for her even as older Slytherins join the dissentious voices. 

But they do have a point. 

Elara Black has always condemned her lord father when questioned about her traitor's blood. She had denounced his claim to their Most Ancient and Noble House and erased his name on their family Book. 

So why has she spoken so favorably about him while in a press conference, before the eyes of everyone? 

It almost is a betrayal, and some Slytherins, it seems, have taken it as one.

"You changed your tune quite easily, Black," Fawley sneers, hands crossed over her chest. She has always been bitter of them, being part of the Sacred Twenty-Eight yet not being welcomed into Elara's court compared to someone like Tracey. "Are you now the Light's new whore?"

Tracey rolls her eyes. 

It isn't Fawley's place to question Elara, to question her loyalty when Elara is heiress to the Darkest and Noblest Wizarding House. 

Where is the so well-preached Slytherin unity? 

Murmurs of agreement echo in the common room.

Draco, heir Malfoy and most staunch supporter of his sister, sneers. "You dare?" he asks, wand in hand yet Elara cuts him off with a regal wave of the hand. 

She looks uncaring, and indifferent as she gazes at the challengers of her crown. "No need, Draco. I am a good Queen, I can listen to their dissatisfaction." She twirls her wand with deft fingers in a way that Tracey practices every night in the hope of mimicking her to no avail. "Treason, on the other hand," the Black heiress trails off, voice soft, yet they all hear the threat nestled inside her voice and some swallow with difficulty.

"How can you speak of treason when you are the one turning your back on us!" Crutchley snarls, indignation in his face and eyes glinting in satisfaction. Tracey remembers Crutchley. She remembers him try so hard to curry favor with the heiress, so hard that his resentment festered once rejected. 

The man is tall, muscular with a strong jawline and a stronger ego. Soft brown hair, common eyes, and having only his blood to his name, Crutchley never could try to appeal to Elara Black. 

Crutchley has always been one of the easiest to turn against their House ruler at the smallest inconvenience. 

When the Chamber of Secrets opened, and a pureblood was a casualty as if Elara could intervene. 

When Sirius Black escaped. 

When no Slytherin was chosen as the Triwizard representative. 

Honestly, Crutchley would blame Elara for the sun setting if he could get away with it. 

Tracey knows that Elara cares not for the mass as long as they, at the end of the day, bow down to her. She cannot find in herself the energy to care when already she rules their House, curries favor with the boy who lived, and establishes herself in Pureblood Society. 

"You should know your place, Black." Crutchley sneers. 

Elara tilts her head. "And where would that be? Under you? I'm sure you would like that." 

Blaise stifles a snort though Draco's cheek turn red at Elara's taunting words. 

Even Tracey is the slightest bit surprised. 

"Yes." Crutchley replies, ignoring the warning hisses of his friends who know better than try such things in front of Draco Malfoy, son of Lord Lucius Malfoy, who is said to be the Minister of Magic operating in the shadows. 

"So, you guys think me a traitor and someone to be put back in her place," Elara starts. She stares at them, sitting on her throne like she was born to sit into it and perhaps, she was. Elara Black wears her crown so prettily, so perfectly, it wouldn't be hard to believe so. "Is that all?" 

"We think you are a lying whore who now showed her true colors. What else could be expected of Sirius Black's daughter." 

Another Slytherin nods, emboldened by Elara's lack of reaction, though Tracey knows not his name. "My Lord Father suffered much, and I wish I could have known him. Now, it is far too late," he reads from the Daily Prophet, mockingly. He opens his mouth, but Elara cuts in. 

"You need not to read me that, Waters-" ah, he is a half-blood, unaffiliated with noble houses. "Though I congratulate you for reading it. This is a big accomplishment for you, to be able to read." Her words are mocking, taunting, and biting. 

The court settles into their seats. 

 Most - not including Tracey unfortunately and a small part of herself resents her mother for marrying a Half blood and ruining Tracey's network - have known Elara early on and it must soothe them to see her wielding her words in such way. 

If Elara falls, Tracey knows there is no chance for her to remain at the top. 

Her eyes stare at their Queen, silently urging her to act out more harshly. To stomp this rebellion from the root. 

To be the Black Tracey chose to serve. 

Waters's face colors angrily. "You betray us so publicly and still sit on the throne? Are you that fucking dumb, Black?"

Elara doesn't deign to answer. She addresses the rest of the Slytherins. "Will that be all?" 

Cruthchley, never good with being ignored by Elara since she joined the Green and Silver ranks, snarls out a Dark curse. 

It is purple, malicious yet the spell breaks apart once it comes into contact with Elara's conjured shield. She sits up from her throne, a smile on her lips that promises bloodshed. "Good," she says, and the smart Slytherins take a small step backward. 

Elara's eyes, grey and silver, a proof of her pure blood and Black heritage, glint.

Fawley crumbles on the floor, wailing as she clutches her face. Birds are trying to pick at her eyes, and it is almost like her skin is melting. 

Waters and Cruthchley fall to Elara's feet, mouths opened in an agonized scream, their legs shattered. Someone, probably a First Year, sobs. They have all heard the cracks, the sound of bones shattering echoing in the common room. Even now, Tracey can see one of the broken bones poking out from Waters's thigh and the very sight makes her want to gag. 

"Now," Elara says, a high healed clad feet pushing Cruthchley on the floor as he whimpers. "I understand some of you guys lack brain cells," her eyes brush the entire crowd. "But surely, you must know better. I am no traitor, I have already sworn it at eleven."

"What about your press interview?" someone asks, safe in the crowd and Tracey cannot put a name or face to the voice. 

Though she, too, is curious of Elara's answer. 

Elara quirks an eyebrow, an amused chuckle escaping her. 

"This is why I am the Queen. It seems that some of your families failed to educate you on politics. The Light faction has always persecuted the Dark faction. Many dark families have been condemned or harshly punished for still performing the old Rituals, a stapple of our culture. How many laws were implemented for us to lose our culture for Mudbloods? I care not for my lord father, but Dumbledore's mistake of abandoning him in Azkaban only helps our cause." she gives a grand, sweeping gesture. "If my lord father, the pureblood heir of one of the richest houses could be sent to Azkaban without a trial, what of you? The smaller, Pureblood folks overlooked by the Light? What of our Slytherins, bullied and rejected just because they wear Green? Now is the time to make them face their own music. If you cannot understand what I do for us, then you have no place among the house of the cunning." 

Already, Tracey sees how the wind has shifted. 

Cruthchley chokes out "liar," but Elara only smiles. 

"All Slytherins are liars, Cruthchley," she says. "But you are no better. You dress yourself as this righteous pureblood when clearly, you care for nothing more than your own advancement. You don't care for Slytherins else you wouldn't be stealing from our First Years."

Some older Slytherins snarl at that. They all have younger siblings and to know that a Seventh Year pureblood was overstepping while attempting to steal the crown? 

Snakes have little tolerance for those. (Those who have no power to back themselves up yet continue to dig themselves a deeper grave). 

Elara gives a happy clap. "Great. I was always curious how the shrinking charm works." 

They all stare at her and Elara sends a powerful reducto to one of the common room's couch. It is reduced into almost nothingness, but a pile of fine powder. 

The Slytherins all watch as Elara Black, Heiress to the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black, aims her wand at Cruthchley, lower and lower till it points at his prized family jewels. 

Blaise chuckles. 

Slytherins pale and unconsciously try to shift their hands to cover their own. 

Elara smiles. Cruthchley whimpers. 

"Glacio." she says. Cruthchley howls, almost instantly joined by Waters as he is cursed too by Elara. 

The common room is silent save for the three who are crying, whimpering, already most assuredly regretting trying to overthrow the last Black.

"Bring those fools to the infirmary in ten minutes," she says lightly. "Pray to Mother Magic that the frostbite isn't too severe lest Ms. Pomffrey has to-" she doesn't finish her words, only does a chopping motion and everything is perfectly clear. 

The ones she adresses immediately kneel in deference at her order.  

"And Cruthchley?" Elara sends a blasting curse to his wand hand. It becomes a mess of bloodied flesh and torn ligaments. "Try to raise your wand against me again, and not even Hogwarts will be able to protect you." 

The poor, foolish sod nods as he sobs. 

He should have known better. 

Someone followed by a Malfoy, a Nott, a Zabini?

They would only bow because of excellence. 

"Daphne?" the Greengrass heiress straightens at her name, and Tracey cannot help but wish she had been the one called upon after such a display. "Tell me, who usually follows Fawley?" 

Daphne smiles daintily. Tracey could never smile so sweetly when it is clear that the Black heiress is going to dish out some well-earned curses. 

"Wilkes, Vance, and Max."

The crowd of students part, non too willing to go down with the three witches called upon. They are pushed forward, whimpering and they throw themselves at Elara's feet, denying all involvement with Fawley acting out. 

If that isn't a lie, then Tracey isn't the last of the Davis House. 

"Spare me your useless chatter." Elara sighs. "I know you three are as guilty as she for the malicious rumors you tried to spread. I am not dumb, despite what you whisper. But, because you only spoke cowardly, I shall be lenient in my punishment." she points at Fawley with her chin, the girl sobbing as angry scars run across her face and her eyes bloodshot. "Calvorio"

There is no greater shame to pureblood girls to lose their carefully combed, beloved hair. 

It is a humiliation to be stripped of it so suddenly, a mark of shame that speaks of your poor conduct, of being rejected by Pureblood society. 

"Does another wish to air their grievances?" Elara asks. 

Silence is her answer as all the Slytherins either bow or curtsy to her in deference as it is proper.  

Yes, Tracey has done well choosing Elara Black. 

Harry doesn't quite know what to say to Sirius's daughter as they bump into each other at his funeral. 

Ron would be snorting. 

Him? 

Tongue-tied around Elara Black? 

What a joke. 

Yet, Harry is voiceless when Elara gives him a short 'Potter' in greeting. 

What can you say to the daughter who didn't know her father to be innocent till he was dead? 

Elara usually wears her arrogance and power well, like a beacon that one must always look at, mesmerized. Today, she is more subdued, duller in her power. 

Grief is different to all, Harry knows. 

But Sirius, Sirius would probably hate to see his daughter in such a way. He'd rather have them both celebrating his life rather than cry over his coffin but Harry cannot, because that was his last family, his last link to his parents and it isn't fair. 

"I'm sorry," he tells Elara, words clumsy on his tongue but he hopes she can feel his sorrow for her. 

She tilts her head. "What are you sorry for?"

For being unable to give Sirius the justice he deserved when he was still alive? 

If Harry had known something could be done, he, without hesitation, would have used his own name to clear his godfather from crimes he did not commit. 

"For your loss." 

Elara smiles at him. There's no kindness in her smile, no sorrow. A blank mask, cold and indifferent.

Her eyes, beautiful as always, are bright, too bright for a funeral, her father's funeral though something darker lingers. Harry cannot put a name to it. 

Harry's chest aches as he reaches for her hand. 

She doesn't need to look strong now. Harry, too, understands her pain. He, too, has lost someone very dear to him. 

Elara Black doesn't need to pretend when he is around. 

"You don't need to pretend, Lara." he says, so very gently. He takes a step forward. "I'm really sorry for your loss." If he hadn't believed the vision that Voldemort had sent him, Sirius would be well. 

He'd be alive. 

Freed. 

At the mere reminder that he has her father's blood on his hands, that it is his fault only to have killed one of the greatest men he had ever met, Harry feels tears prick at his eyes. 

Something small, cold rolls down his cheek. 

Elara reaches gently to wipe it away, face so similar to Sirius that it is like seeing a ghost, soft and loving. "Oh, Potter," she whispers. Harry would give anything to hear her say his name so beautifully, like it is gold on her tongue. "Do not cry for me."

But how can he not? 

She lost her father. And it is his fault. 

He tells her so. 

Elara shakes her head. "You didn't take a father from me. Not this time," she says carefully as if stepping on broken shards of glass. 

"Sirius was your father," Harry reminds her, stressing on the word father. 

"He truly wasn't," Elara says, so matter factually, it breaks Harry's heart because he knows how much Sirius loves his daughter, and how dare she just brush him off like that? "He was a stranger." 

"He loved you," Harry spits. 

Elara looks at him. Now, Harry understands what was lingering in her bright eyes. It was pity. 

"Sirius Black loved you, not me." 

The Gryffindor shakes his head vehemently. "He's your father."

Elara's eyes harden. "He chose not to be when he left me for your family." 

Harry falters, stumbles at her words because though he so desperately wishes to deny it, there's a small, rational part of himself that knows better, that knows it to be the truth. He wants to say something, anything but the guilt and self-loathing that comes with that truth weighs on his tongue till he can only bite it. 

"So, do not be sorry for me, Potter. Rather, my condolences for your loss. I am sorry you lost another father." 

And she leaves in a flurry of black, a dark silhouette so imposing that the mingling crowd automatically parts to let her pass. 

Harry inhales sharply, a hand to his hair gripping at them. 

He's your father too. 

(But you lost him years ago

and now, 

you already made peace with it)